


Assassin/Assassin

by Kalista77



Series: Dragons vs Humans [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Cutting, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, PTSD, Subspace, Trauma, all the other things I don't remember because I wrote this a year ago, bad situation, improper lube, improper use of knives, sad excuse for aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalista77/pseuds/Kalista77
Summary: Leon doesn't want to go Home.





	Assassin/Assassin

Leon finished off the last of the guards of the human compound and turned to face his injured, temporary partner who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. Leon smirked. “Whimp,” he muttered, ignoring the glare that the dragon sent his way at the comment. He finished cleaning off his katana and held out his hand with an eyebrow raised expectantly.

Rex fished out the knives and handed them over with a hint of reluctance that Leon ignored.

_ Maybe _ they would help smooth things over with Father.  _ Maybe _ . He doubted it. He probably should have found some way to skin the dragon in front of him….

“So….” Rex shifted uncomfortably.

Leon was severely tempted to just brush the dragon off and walk away, but… the sooner he walked away, the sooner he would have to face Father. The thought made him wince, and he was suddenly looking for a topic of conversation. “Nice knives,” he blurted out.

Rex looked at him a bit oddly. “Thanks. I’m sure they’ll fetch a decent price.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I’m not  _ selling _ them,”  _ assuming I even get to keep them _ . “How stupid do you think I am?”

Rex looked a bit floored by that response. “I… assumed you could use the money.” He made a vague, half-aborted gesture to what looked like Leon’s coat.

Leon glanced over his shoulder at the coat that was dragging in the mud. “I don’t need money,” he said, despite all the evidence to the contrary, and he sounded damn certain of it too. “I have everything I need.”

He didn’t realize how  _ vehemently _ he had said it until Rex held up his hands in defense. “I’m sure you do!”

Leon cringed and sighed, suddenly leaning back against the wall of the isolated keep, letting his head thud against the stone. “Fuck.” He thought that summed up his situation quite perfectly.

“What?” Rex asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Leon picked his head up and looked at the ground instead. “My father’s going to be pissed,” he said simply, like that should explain everything.

“Why? Stayed out too late?” Rex sounded incredulous.

Leon glared at him half-heartedly. “Didn’t kill the person I was supposed to,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at Rex dangerously, who recoiled from the murderous expression.

“Why should he care? The guy’s still dead,” Rex pointed out slowly.

Leon hissed in through his teeth. “It doesn’t  _ matter _ . The assignment was that  _ I _ was supposed to kill him,” he snapped. He suddenly drew his blade and started swinging it agitatedly as he paced. “I led you kill him first and then I didn’t even kill  _ you _ .”

Rex shifted, hand reaching casually for his own blade.

Leon’s katana was flicked up to his throat before he had moved his hand more than an inch. “Don’t,” Leon warned, his eyes finally following the track of his blade to look Rex in the eyes.

Rex slowly pulled his hands away and showed them to Leon, palms facing outwards. “We had a truce,” he said slowly. “We can both just walk away.”

Leon stared at him for a beat. “Father would tell me to kill you,” he whispered, voice barely audible, but just as Rex’s life started flashing before his eyes, Leon let the tip of his katana fall to the mud. “Go,” he said simply, eyes on the ground. “Get out of here, dragon.”

Rex didn’t need to be told twice, and he was almost out of hearing distance when Leon’s voice called after him.

“Don’t forget- you owe me one!”

Leon watched the dragon disappear and then quickly cleaned and sheathed his blade before hurrying away from the keep, into the forest, and towards the base where he had set up shop for the series of missions he had carried out in the area. That general had been the last one on his list; it was time to go Home now.

He entered the small, abandoned hut, the door slamming shut behind him, and he was already shirking out of his wet coat when he felt cold steel against his back through his shirt. He froze.

“Sloppy,” a familiar voice hissed, and Leon could have laughed at the flood of relief that ran through him even as Rastin crowded up against him, the heat of the older boy’s body making him notice just how fucking cold he was as he shivered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, turning around as Rastin removed the knife to allow it. His back was to the door now, and Rastin crowded him up even further against it until Leon barely had space to breathe. He held Leon’s hands over his head with one hand, gently traced the tip of his darksteel knife over Leon’s cheek with his other, not pressing quite hard enough to draw blood.

“Came to find you,” he murmured, his breath washing over Leon’s face as Leon closed his eyes. “Father was getting worried.”

Leon made a soft distressed sound.

Rastin pulled away instantly, putting a good foot of space between them and leaving Leon to almost fall to the floor without Rastin holding him up. “What did you do, kid?” His voice cracked like a whip, and Leon flinched, taking a deep breath to pull himself back together.

“Someone got to the general first,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “He’s dead, but not by my hand. I was  _ seconds _ too late.”

“Fuck,” Rastin hissed, loud and angry, and Leon heard something smash to the ground though he didn’t look up to see what it was. “Who did it? Did you see them? Did you kill them?”

Leon swallowed and forced himself to meet Rastin’s eyes. “It was a dragon. I… beat him, but….”

“You didn’t kill him,” Rastin sighed. “Because of  _ course _ you didn’t.”

“I’m not going to tell Father I even saw him,” Leon said quickly, but his breath was already coming in short gasps, and  _ fuck _ he didn’t want to go Home and he could already feel the chains wrapped around his wrists as he hung from the ceiling, and Father-

A sharp pain rushed across his chest, and suddenly he could breathe again.

The knife in Rastin’s hand was dripping blood now.

Leon looked down. The wound was shallow across his chest, not like the one the dragon had given him, and could easily be explained as a battle injury. More importantly, it gave him something on which to focus. He could  _ breathe _ .

“Dragon do that?” Rastin asked, gesturing to the much worse wound on his arm.

Leon nodded dumbly.

“Get up,” Rastin told him, and Leon struggled to obey, coming to sit on the bed.

Rastin was kneeling in front of him, and Leon watched in silence as the older boy bound up his wound, hissing briefly at the sting of alcohol as Rastin splashed some old vodka on it. “So that’s it? General was dead when you walked in; you beat the dragon and then walked away?”

Leon shook his head. “He… helped me get out.”

“You need the help?” Rastin asked dubiously as he tied off the wrappings harshly.

“No,” Leon bit out against the pain. “He gave me these too.” He pulled out the throwing knives.

Rastin admired them for about twenty seconds. “Hard to say you never saw the murderer and explain that he gave you those too.”

Leon met Rastin’s gaze steadily. “I thought you might like them.”

Rastin arched an eyebrow, amused, but he took the blades, whistling as he admired the craftsmanship. “I might need to torture a dragon to learn how to make these sometime.”

Leon snorted and started to stand.

Rastin stopped him with a quick hand wrapped around his wrist and turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow in silent question.

Leon knew what he was asking. He hesitated just for a moment and then sat back down, a mixture of trepidation and excitement in his eyes as he swallowed. “You want to try them out?”

Rastin’s smile was sharp. “Hard to tell how much they’re worth without at least getting them wet first.”

Leon exhaled slightly and then laid down on his stomach, his entire body tense as Rastin stood and sat on his lower back before taking the blade first to Leon’s shirt. He was surprised at how easily the fabric gave way before the knife, and he pulled his hand back briefly to stare thoughtfully at the blade. He smiled wickedly.

Leon shifted under him unintentionally, and Rastin’s eyes narrowed on the back of his head before he abruptly slashed across the top of Leon’s back, just under his shoulder blades. What had been meant to be a shallow cut split his skin deeply, and Rastin’s eyes widened, turning black, as Leon hissed loudly and sharply at the unexpected pain.

“What the  _ fuck _ did you just do?”

Rastin stared in silence for a beat as the blood started running down Leon’s back, falling in trails that were somewhat dictated by the raised scar tissue caused by the patterns already drawn all over Leon’s back. He shook himself out of it after a moment. “These things are fucking  _ sharp _ ,” he noted, his lips curving up in a smirk.

“Father’s going to kill me,” Leon muttered faintly, voice muffled into the flat pillow.

Rastin felt a brief flash of anger. Leon was  _ his _ ; he should be able to do what he wanted. “I’ll think of a reason,” he soothed the younger boy gently. He didn’t want the kid to bolt. Despite their current situation, Leon was still the better swordsman, to his everlasting annoyance.

Leon said something else, but Rastin couldn’t hear him this time and he didn’t really care. “Give me your hands,” he commanded, his voice already having dropped almost a full octave.

Leon obeyed, putting his hands together at the small of his back. Rastin glanced around briefly and grabbed one of the sheets that had been knocked to the ground, cutting off a decent chunk and then using it to bind Leon’s hands behind his back- tight, but not so tight as to cut off circulation.

Leon made another soft sound, but this time it wasn’t a complaint; it was very nearly a moan, and Rastin grinned.

He didn’t say anything though as he started to gently cut into Leon’s skin with the tip of the dragonblade. Leon’s dark skin, despite already being covered in thin scars, was a canvas, and Rastin painted it with dark shades of red. The blood trickled down Leon’s back and pooled down where his hands were resting, staining the sheets red and even running down to Rastin’s increasingly tight pants.

Leon’s breath was growing more erratic and unbalanced every second, and Rastin’s smile turned sharper and more predatory. He took the knife and moved over to that one scar- the one marring of an otherwise perfect piece of art. It was long, thick, and jagged as it ran parallel to Leon’s spine, and he ever so carefully pressed the tip down, piercing through the scar tissue and drawing blood from the same place again.

Leon cried out softly, his hands fisting where they were bound together, nails biting into his skin so hard that he nearly drew blood himself.

Rastin’s smile gentled just slightly, and he gently stroked a hand down Leon’s exposed side, feeling the skin flutter under his touch, he leaned forward over Leon with his hand planted on the side of the skinny boy, careful not to put more pressure on the blade, and brushed his lips against the top of Leon’s head. “Shhhh,” he hushed softly, and Leon stopped jerking under him- which was important.

Rastin had no intention of damaging the boy permanently.

He didn’t stop though, and once Leon stilled Rastin continued to reopen the scar along a much thinner line. He pulled the knife down to about halfway through the full length of the original scar before he stopped. Leon was  _ shaking _ under him, and he was worried that if he kept going much further the boy was going to make his hand slip. Just because Sylas had fucked up the canvas once didn’t mean he was going to make the same mistake.

Rastin slowly stopped and threw the blade to the side. It embedded itself in the wall across the length of the small hut.

“Still with me, kid?” he checked softly, his voice gravelly.

Leon didn’t say anything for a long moment, although Rastin could still feel him shaking under him.

“Kid?”

“Fuck off,” Leon hissed.

Rastin laughed lowly in the in back of his throat. “I’m gonna take that to mean that you’re still good.”

“Father….” Leon stopped to breathe, his voice cracking. “Father is going to want to know… how exactly…  _ that _ happened.”

Rastin leaned down over Leon’s back, his own shirt pressing against the open wounds he had left there and making Leon hiss. “Maybe the dragon fucked you.” His own knife, long and curved and dangerous, found its way to his hand from where it was strapped to his leg, and he dragged it down Leon’s side.

The kid jerked suddenly. “Fuuuck,” he hissed, “you were fucking  _ done _ .”

Rastin arched an eyebrow even though Leon couldn’t see it and rolled his hips against the kid. “Are we?”

Leon stilled for a long moment and then exhaled raggedly. “No,” he breathed unsteadily, “just… watch the scarring, would you?”

Rastin laughed and then bit down against Leon’s shoulder- hard.

Leon jerked again, and a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper left his lips.

“I doubt the dragon would have been gentle,” he whispered directly in Leon’s ear. He shoved his long blade back into the sheath on his leg and grabbed one of the other dragonblade throwing knives from the nearby table. He tucked it in between his teeth and then jerked Leon’s trousers down roughly. The kid helped him a bit, having known it was coming, and he smirked around the blade.

He reached into the pocket of his own jacket and pulled out a small jar of oil. He had  _ no idea _ for what it was meant to be used. He sincerely doubted that many people used it for its intended purpose though, considering he’d gotten it from a pirate. He slicked up three fingers and then took the knife from his teeth with the other hand. He traced the edge of the thick scar on the lower half this time, not pressing quite hard enough to break the skin.

Leon was inhaling shakily already, and he made a soft sound of distress when Rastin returned to the scar.

Rastin slipped a finger inside of him, and Leon swore.

“I fucking hate you,” he grumbled, relaxing almost immediately.

Rastin grinned and then moved the knife away from the scar to the other side of Leon’s spine, tracing a line there that followed the same path as the thick, jagged,  _ unartistic _ thing that Sylas had done. He continued working Leon open, adding another finger and stretching him.

He adjusted his grip on the handle of the blade in his sweaty hand- and paused. Another wicked smile crept across his face and he removed his fingers to take the knife in his other hand. Then he grabbed Leon’s hair and jerked his head up with his other one, holding the knife up to his mouth. “Hold this,” he commanded roughly.

Leon craned his neck around briefly in order to shoot Rastin a glare before obediently opening his mouth to hold the knife between his teeth. He had to keep his head at an awkward angle to avoid pushing it against the bed and therefore back against his mouth.

Rastin grabbed the jar of oil again and the third and final dragonblade. The handle was mostly flat and perfectly smooth, with a gentle curvature to it. He grinned and then slicked it up with the oil. He inserted two fingers again, ignoring Leon’s annoyed grunt about still having the knife in his mouth, and then carefully pressed the handle of the throwing knife inside of him carefully, angling the handle downwards.

Leon was shaking again and clearly having a bit of trouble keeping his head out of the bed considering the knife, so Rastin had a bit of pity on him and reached forward with his free hand to get the knife back.

Leon exhaled shakily. “That… is… odd,” he finally managed.

Rastin chuckled. “Odd?” he repeated, twisting the handle inside Leon a bit. It was cutting into his own hand from that position, but he ignored that.

Leon let out a startled sound. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

Rastin rolled his eyes and put the tip of the blade in his hand against the bottom of the jagged scar and pressed down without any warning at all.

Leon whimpered loudly and put his head back in the bed to muffle the sound.

“Stop cursing at me,” Rastin said in annoyance and then started slowly fucking Leon with the blade, the blood from his hand running down the blade and working as more lubrication.

He could tell as soon as he got enough depth and pressure to hit his target, as Leon’s entire body jolted, although he didn’t make a sound this time.

Rastin grinned sharply and kept going. Now that he had a rhythm with his left hand, he adjusted his grip on the blade in his right and found the point where he’d stopped cutting into the scar before, ever so slowly breaking through the skin again and pulling downwards more. He was  _ quite determined _ to make that  _ his _ mark on Leon rather than that fucking bastard’s.

Leon was shaking, but it was controlled enough that it didn’t throw off Rastin’s movements, and he kept going.

“You…. you have to stop,” Leon whispered, voice almost completely gone.

Rastin had less than an inch on the scar left, and he hesitated.

“I- you…. I can’t... breathe.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but it was how Leon tended to express panic. Rastin made a split second decision. He pulled the handle out of Leon at the exact same time that he finished the cut on the scar, making Leon give a full body shudder just a second after Rastin had pulled the blade away.

It could have been bad, but Rastin was quite pleased with the result as it was.

He laid back across Leon’s back to be able to speak soothingly into his ear. “Can you move?” When Leon took several seconds to respond, Rastin tried again, digging his teeth briefly into his shoulder, though not enough to draw blood this time. “Kid?”

“Yeah,” Leon’s response came. He sounded almost like he was underwater without muffled he was. “Where…. Where do you want me?”

The smile that flickered over Rastin’s face then was almost gentle in nature before he leaned back and held himself up by his knees on both sides of Leon’s body so that he wasn’t pinning the boy to the bed. First he cut off the sheet that had bound Leon’s wrists together and then he grabbed Leon’s hips and twisted, prompting him to roll over.

Leon cursed, the sheets against the wounds on his back bringing him back from near unconsciousness. “Bloody Khane’s Legions and Nightmares,” Leon grumbled loudly, making Rastin smirk.

“Back with me, Kid?”

Leon closed his eyes briefly as he let his head fall back on the blood-stained pillow. “Did I leave?”

Rastin smiled. He reached for the oil again and this time slicked himself up, his bloody pants finding their way to the floor. He pressed into the smaller teen slowly, and Leon actually rocked forward to meet him.

A moment later, though, when the kid groaned, he wasn’t sure if it was for the purpose of meeting Rastin’s thrust or to move his back against the sheets. Rastin took his bleeding hand and wrapped it around Leon, jerking him off in time to his thrusts.

At this point, it didn’t take very long.

Rastin rolled off of him and laid to the side, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Still with me?”

“Don’t think I could move to go anywhere.”

Rastin shrugged a single shoulder. “You’ve surprised me before.”

Leon breathed a short laugh. He started to roll over to get out of the blood-soaked and soiled bed and then hissed loudly and collapsed again. “Fucking Oblivion Fissures,” he growled. His arm was killing him and his entire back felt like it was on fire.

“Don’t do that,” Rastin told him calmly, sitting up. He gently pushed on Leon’s side to roll him over, and the kid hissed loudly again as he did as he was told.

Rastin resumed his former seated position and rifled through the linens until he found some that weren’t completely ruined. Before he started to wrap the injuries though, he reached for the bottle of vodka and dumped all of what remained over Leon’s back.

Leon twisted around just in order to make eye contact with Rastin. “Fuck. You.”

“Nope. You  _ just _ had your chance,” Rastin told him with a smirk, and Leon couldn’t help but crack a smile as he let his head drop again.

Rastin bound the wounds quickly and efficiently, careful not to give them time to come in contact with anything else in the meantime. Infections were a  _ bitch _ , especially with Sylas’ opinions on any kind of drugs.  _ Bastard _ , Rastin thought yet again as he bound up the scar that he had reopened. The scar that had been given to Leon because he dared to get some drugs for himself and the others after Sylas went on a rampage and most of them couldn’t even stand up straight because of the pain.

Rastin gently leaned forward. “Done,” he whispered quietly in the kid’s ear.

Leon stirred rather slowly, and he sat up with a wince as Rastin got off of him. He glanced down at his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles and covered in bodily fluids and the shirt that Rastin had literally cut off of him on the floor. “You destroyed my clothes.”

Rastin glanced down at his own ruined clothes. “It’s your blood all over everything.”

Leon rolled his eyes- hard. “I really do hate you.”

Rastin grinned and leaned into Leon’s space. “No, you don’t,” he said softly.

Leon looked at him for a beat and then admitted, “No, I don’t.”

“We should get going.”

“Yeah. Father will be waiting.” Leon almost managed not to wince when he said it.

Rastin frowned at him as they stood, Leon pulling out a bag with some spare clothes and tossing a pair of pants and a shirt at Rastin. He decided to forgo a shirt himself, just pulling on his coat after he put on his pants, wincing as it pulled at his arm.

Leon straightened and turned, about to head for the door, when Rastin rather abruptly grabbed him by his good arm and spun him around, pulling him into an uncharacteristic hug.

Leon froze for a few seconds before relaxing, laying his head on Rastin’s chest. “What was that?” he asked softly a moment later when they pulled apart.

Rastin’s eyes were unreadable. “I’m not him.”

Leon blinked, stunned for a brief moment before he nodded firmly. “I have never once thought that you were.”

Rastin nodded once, a quick jerk of his head, and then the two of them left the cabin and headed towards Home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at:  
> https://kalista77.tumblr.com/


End file.
